


Long Distance Call

by biscuits_and_whiskey



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awake the Snake (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fluff, Gen, Just kiss each other already darn it, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuits_and_whiskey/pseuds/biscuits_and_whiskey
Summary: For the Good Omens "Awake the Snake" event.A slew of strange mischief across Europe catches Aziraphale's attention. There's only one culprit in mind, but wasn't he supposed to be asleep still?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	Long Distance Call

If it weren’t for the daily newspaper delivery, Aziraphale might’ve missed the passing of June and July’s arrival.

  
Aziraphale wasn’t one to talk strengths, but if he had to admit one of his, he’d name his ability to while away time. To put it simply, boredom wasn’t an issue for him.

Indeed, he might be quicker to name the _weakness_ that goes along with any strength, like the other side of a coin: time didn’t have the same meaning to him that, he supposed, made him a rather poor angel.

  
After all, shouldn’t an Earth agent have a solid grasp of time’s inevitable passage, from trends to basic information like the current day?

  
But that was never Aziraphale’s strong suit, though most didn’t need to be told that.

  
Put simply, between his books, his new baking hobby as well as the plethora of other potential avenues to ward off boredom, the last two months had passed rather readily.

It wasn’t until he ran out of some dozenth jar of yeast did he finally pause long enough to consider the incoming natural light, as well as the heat echoing past faded wood.

“ _Dear me, it has gotten a tad warm. Unseasonably warm._ ” He thought as he set down his dishtowel.

He paused.

“ _Unseasonably warm…right?_ ”

  
There was a thud at his doorstep.

  
Not a disconcerting thud; really, only noticeable as a break in the usual bookshop ambience.

  
Enough to draw Aziraphale away from his baking frenzy.

He threw aside a flour-encrusted apron and shuffled to his front stoop, now curtained with dust and a spare cobweb or two.

He brushed away the signs of neglect and ushered the spider away with a nod before he opened the door.

A glance down confirmed his suspicion.

“Ah, right on time.”

He looked up to tip the paperboy but stopped at the masked visage of his usual deliverer.

  
“Mr. Fell! Long time no see. Was about to stop your paper delivery.”

The paperboy gestured to a pile of moldy papers, still in their plastic wrappings, that had collected in the bookshop’s entryway.

  
Aziraphale turned a slight shade of pink.

“Ah, yes, terribly sorry. I suppose I’ve gotten a bit distracted.”

  
“For two months? Must’ve been quite a distraction.”

“Erm, cataloging is quite the process. But anyways, the mask…the pandemic?”

  
The paperboy sighed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s gotten _real old_ , Mr. Fell. Real old. I’ll be thrilled once I can toss this bloody mask.”

  
“Bit surprised it’s still happening.”

  
“ _I’m_ not, but what can you do? Humans suck.”

  
“Quite.” Aziraphale frowned disapprovingly.

  
“Anywho, got more papers to deliver. See you around.”

  
“A-Ah, would you like a fresh brioche before you go?” offered Aziraphale.

  
“Can’t carry a loaf with the papers, but thanks! Maybe later.”

  
And with that, the paperboy cycled away.

  
Aziraphale played with his waistcoat’s buttons as he stood, taken aback, on his stoop.

“ _Two months. It’s been_ two months _already. Must mean it’s –_ “

He plucked the paper from its plastic wrapping and examined the type.

_  
July 1 st, 2020_.

“Goodness me. Time flies.” He muttered.

His gaze drifted to the bold font, to the headline that blurted its message of importance:

“UNEXPLAINED AND INCONVENIENT”: VPNs REMAIN OFFLINE THROUGHOUT LONDON.

He frowned and turned to enter the shop once more, reading as he walked.

  
“ _Companies around the UK struggle to address the hundreds of complaints from customers who continue to experience a lack of access to purchased VPN subscriptions. The situation, which started on June 28 th, has yet to improve as less than 5% of VPN users report consistent and satisfactory service. Jameson Jenkins, president of Secure Connect, describes the situation as ‘indescribably confusing’ and ‘continues to baffle attempts to rectify the situation’ _– “

  
Aziraphale paused as he slumped into his armchair.

“ _Sounds like something Crowley would’ve done_.”

  
And he remembered, quite embarrassingly, just then.

Dots connected.

July 1st.

  
“ _I’m setting my alarm for July. Goodnight, Angel._ ”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale found himself fluttering.

Said flutter faltered and, instead, he tutted disapprovingly.

Well, if this _was_ all Crowley, he certainly hadn’t hesitated with stirring some demonic mischief.

“ _Making up for lost time, I suppose_.”

But he had said he’d nap until July, didn’t he?

And the paper said this mess started a few days ago…

Aziraphale shook his head.

This had Crowley written all over it.

  
Though, exactly _how_ he would go about addressing this, if at all, was far less certain.

  
The past year since the cancelled Armageddon could be defined as “a change” for Aziraphale and Crowley. This most certainly applied to their duties as an angel and demon respectively.

No head offices meant no assignments, but their powers hadn’t diminished either.

(They had tested this already, through a series of possibly ill-advised experiments after the first month of emancipation. All public property damage and swarms of geese were righted post-haste, and London remains none the wiser.)

  
Aziraphale sat back, pondered the headline.

“ _Seems a nuisance more than anything harmful. I guess angelic intervention isn’t_ quite _necessary._ ” He thought.

He glanced at his phone.

It judged him from across the room.

“ _The paper, however, did make out everyone to be certainly unhappy. And, well, I don’t need to necessarily break quarantine to assist here, now do I?_ ”

“ _No, just a phone call. Thwart Crowley over the telephone. Yes. Suppose many things nowadays are done over telecommunication, aren’t they? Best get with the times, Aziraphale._ ”

  
With a huff, he forced himself onto his feet and across the room.

He lifted the receiver, pressed it against his ear.

And stopped.

His finger hovered over the rotary dial.

...now, darn it all, why was his heart running a marathon?

“ _I don’t even require a heartrate. Now, kindly knock that off. B-By that, I mean collect yourself. Don’t completely stop. We’re still working out the kinks in those details._ ”

  
He frowned and flicked a few random numbers that the phone knew were Crowley’s.

There was the tone.

  
One…

Two…

Three…

  
“ _Crowley usually picks up at two._ ” Aziraphale thought.

But if he was asleep, or truly busy with demonic mischief, perhaps it made sense.

Still, it stirred his treacherous heart to quickened action and, well goodness gracious, that was _completely_ unnecessary.

  
_Click_.

“ _Mornin’._ ”

  
Aziraphale felt his brain skip.

Another treacherous organ to add to the pile.

Really, in terms of their existences, two months wasn’t that long to go without hearing Crowley’s voice. Close to a blink than an eternity.

So, his voice shouldn’t make his thoughts leap the proverbial track.

Really now, he knew this quite well. His corporation should be on the same page.

But, regardless, it did. And his tongue joined his heart and brain.

Not particularly helpful when confronting an old adversa – friend.

Yes. _Friend_.

  
“ _’ziraphale? You there?_ ”

  
“A-Ah! Yes. Yes, I am.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I see you’re awake.”

  
“ _Yup. Been for a bit. Finally got my spine untangled. You would not_ believe _what a body does with two months’ sleep –_ “

  
“I could imagine. Erm, Crowley, dear, I did have a reason to call you.”

  
“ _What, not just for a friendly hello?_ ”

  
“Well…that was a part of it.” Flushed Aziraphale. “Perhaps I should’ve started with that. Quite rude of me. I’m sorry.”

  
“ _Eh, feelings aren’t hurt. What’s on your mind, Angel?_ ”

  
“Ah, well, I just received today’s paper and couldn’t help but notice the headline.” Aziraphale propped up the paper, even though Crowley (obviously) wouldn’t see it. “There was a certain bit of trouble around London. Something about ‘vee-pee-ins’? All of them are out of order. Left a good number of people distressed.”

  
There was pause, a lengthy one, on the other end.

  
“Must admit, Crowley, it does sound quite like you.”

“ _Right, well, guilty as charged._ ”

  
“It said in the paper this started a few days ago, however.”

  
“ _Might’ve woken before my alarm._ ”

  
“Oh? Is that normal?”

  
“ _Hrm, no, not exactly. Not_ bad _, per se, just…not optimal._ ”

  
“I suppose that makes sense.” Mumbled Aziraphale as he twisted the cord around his finger.

  
There was another lengthy pause. He could hear some ambient sound on Crowley’s side, noises that sounded like distant car horns, as well as another sound he couldn’t place.

  
“I-I must ask, Crowley. This feels a little out of place for you.”

  
“ _How so?_ ”

  
“Well, before…all this, I noticed you’d held back on the temptations. Less demonic activity and, well, I suppose it makes sense – “

  
“ _No management with their quotas._ ”

  
“Exactly. I just thought – “

  
“ _What, I’d quit them completely?_ ”

  
“N-No! No, I…dear, I know you enjoy your little tricks.”

  
“ _You’d prefer I stop them though._ ”

  
“ _N-No_ …well, you don’t usually hurt anyone with them. It could be worse.” He mulled. “…what exactly _is_ a ‘vee-pee-in’?”

  
“ _VPN, Aziraphale_.” Crowley corrected without an ounce of irritation. “ _It’s a thing the humans made for their computers. You know, the thing gathering dust in the back room of your shop._ ”

“I _know_ what a computer is, Crowley.” Aziraphale huffed.

  
“ _Well, they made them so they could watch other countries’ television shows._ ”

  
Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s all?”

  
He heard Crowley mull on the other end.

“ _No…but don’t think I need to mention the other muck. Lets you alter your computer’s location, so that lets people hide –_ “

  
“Ah. I see.” Aziraphale grimaced. “Yes, no need for explanation.”

  
“ _Mmph_.”

  
“Could almost say that’s a good – “

“Don’t _, it_ wasn’t _. I can guarantee the most I did was irritate a few people wanting to binge watch ‘The Office’ for the umpteenth time._ ”

  
“Ah, incur a little unwanted inconvenience?” Aziraphale noted. “Still, could create _some_ good. Might make a few pick up a hobby or other pastime.”

  
“ _I wouldn’t bet on it, Angel._ ”

  
“Quite.”

Aziraphale could almost hear Crowley think.

  
“ _So…read the rest of the paper?_ ”

  
“Ah, no. To be frank I called as soon as I saw the headline. Thought it might be you up to no good.”

  
“ _As always_.”

  
“Let’s see…” Aziraphale skimmed.

He stopped.

“Crowley.”

  
“ _Yeah?_ ”

  
“You haven’t been around Germany, have you?”

  
He heard Crowley shrug.

“ _Not exactly ‘been around’_. _Why?_ ”

  
“Because the U-Bahn and S-Bahn station signs were swapped two days ago. Caused quite a few people a deal of confusion.”

  
“ _Sounds irritating. But really, you call your trains nearly the same name, you’re asking for it._ ”

  
“Hm, and…the Tour Montparnasse _grew_ twenty meters two days ago as well.”

  
“ _Ugly tower gets taller. Could see that upsetting a few._ ”

  
“ _And_ last night…”

  
Aziraphale stopped, frowned.

“ _Yes?_ ”

  
“Dear, now this is just ridiculous. _Why –_ “

  
“ _No reason. You have to admit it’s funny._ ”

  
“Crowley, the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi is a national treasure! You can’t just draw sunglasses and a mustache on the statue!”

  
“I _didn’t do it. Some delinquent punk might’ve felt inclined._ ” Crowley clarified. Aziraphale could almost see the theatrical hand gesture as he added, “Demon. _Comes with the package._ ”

  
“Perhaps! But…” Aziraphale sat back and sighed, a hand across his brow. “…isn’t this a bit overdoing it?”

  
There was silence.

He heard Crowley shuffle.

  
“ _…just bored, Angel._ ”

  
“I recall the last time you said you were bored, you napped for two months straight.”

  
“ _Right,_ fine _, maybe a bit frustrated too._ ”

  
Aziraphale heard him sigh.

  
“ _I really did think it’d be over by now._ ”

  
“I hoped it would be too.” Admitted Aziraphale.

  
“ _It keeps getting worse._ ”

  
“I know.”

“ _Thought they might learn from the last time._ ”

  
“We know it’s more complicated than that.” Sighed Aziraphale.

  
He heard Crowley sigh again.

  
“ _…right._ ”

  
  
He could hear Crowley droop and his heart ached.

  
“…are you going to go back to sleep?”

  
  
Crowley mumbled on the other side before answering.

“ _Maybe. Not yet though. Spine still needs to set._ ”

  
“Of course.”

  
“ _Besides, the snowfall is nice._ ”

  
Aziraphale furrowed his brow, peeked out his window.

“Snow? Dear, there isn’t a flake.”

  
“ _In Italy there is._ ”

  
“ _Italy?_ What – “

  
Aziraphale flipped to the back of the paper, to the weather report.

He stopped at the article about unprecedented Venetian snowfall.

“…another of yours?”

“ _It’s been a few years. Everyone’s stuck inside anyways._ ”

  
Aziraphale sat upright.

“Is it lovely?”

  
“ _Absolutely, ineffably,_ heavenly _._ ” Crowley drolled indulgently, gagged at the last word.

  
Aziraphale pursed his lips.

“Wiley serpent.”

  
“ _You know, I could stay awake._ ” He could almost hear Crowley lounge the way he does, against all laws of gravity. “ _Keep causing minor chaos here and there. Was fun. Could cook up a few more ideas._ ”

  
“We’re supposed to stay at home.”

  
“ _I’m staying put. Promise. I haven’t left this flat since I arrived. It’s remote work._ ”

  
“Good lord…”  
  


“ _And not terribly keen on leaving, y’know. All these Italian wines just stocked up, all drinkable, why head out? Just sit in, watch the snowfall._ ”

  
The cord twisted tighter around Aziraphale’s finger.

  
“ _I’m no expert, but I_ think _, this might pair well with some bread._ ”

  
Aziraphale nearly yanked the wire free.

  
“ _You took up baking, didn’t you?_ ”

  
“You’re tempting me.”

  
“ _Could be. Are you being tempted?_ ”

Aziraphale frowned lightly.

“We’re _supposed_ to be isolating right now.” He insisted, despite everything and himself. “It’s out of the question.”

  
  
He heard Crowley sigh and stretch.

  
“ _Right. Well, I should let you go. Get back to your baking. Save me a slice or two, whatever you like best._ ”

  
“Crowley – “

  
“ _See you once this is all over, Angel._ ”

  
  
_Click_.

  
Aziraphale turned and stared at the receiver, feeling the pang of hurt far more than he could’ve expected.

  
He’d felt off, even regretful, after their last call, even as he insisted that he did the right thing.

Just like he was doing the right thing now.

Yes, right, this was _correct_.

Followed human conventions, the side _they_ chose.

Aziraphale set the receiver and sat, now alone in the quiet of the bookshop.

He drummed his fingers against his waistcoat and slouched.

  
“ _Dear me, does the ‘correct choice’ usually feel this dreadful?_ ”

  
He plucked the newspaper back up.

  
There was some other news, about a fuss once again with the United States’ leader, climate stories.

  
Then, the op-ed section.

A coincidence almost ineffable in nature.

  
“ _Your Social Distancing Social Group: How to Choose the Right People to Join Your Circle_ ”

  
Aziraphale’s eyes widened.

He read through the short article, all about how humans were starting to socialize again, _in person_.

  
“ _Your best choices are people who’re currently, and have been, engaging in social distancing practices, as well as keeping gatherings to less than ten people._ ”

  
Aziraphale paused, thought.

“The humans are starting to meet again.” He spoke to himself. “And the _best_ , _right_ people to meet with are those who’ve been distancing properly.”

“I know I have, and Crowley…well Crowley says he has too.”

_He’s a demon._

He frowned, paused.

_A demon I trusted enough to swap corporations with. A demon I believed would survive my execution in my place, wouldn’t sell me out to either side._

“I _trust_ him.” He tutted firmly.

  
A giddiness flitted past his face.

“Then…I _suppose_ to meet wouldn’t be so irresponsible? It might even be a socially approved rendezvous?”

  
He didn’t hesitate.

  
He only paused to grab a fresh loaf of sourdough before he snapped his fingers and vanished.

\--

  
It was like a scene from a movie.

  
He appeared in a Venetian flat, styled in a blend of modern and classical fashion, tasteful yet understated.

Curtains billowed at the open double doors, ones that led to a lovely veranda.

A lovely veranda where one demon, hair grown out and pulled into a loose ponytail, sat.

  
It was, indeed, snowing.

  
Aziraphale cleared his throat.

  
At the sound, he watched Crowley turn swiftly, before he settled into something like controlled nonchalance.

“You came.” Crowley said. “Said you wouldn’t come.”

“Thought you’d appreciate the company.”

  
“I tempted you.”

  
“The humans have approved of limited social gatherings.” Aziraphale retorted. “So long as everyone has done their parts with distancing and quarantining. You can’t tempt someone into something socially acceptable.”

  
“So, says you.” Grinned Crowley. “Wine?”

  
“Oh, thank you.”

Aziraphale sat across from Crowley at the small patio table, set to overlook the canals of Venice now dusted with snow.

Impressively, the snow was chilly, but not freezing. It was an odd snow, of the purely ethereal (or occult) design.

It dusted, not frosted, the potted flowers, which trembled not from the cold.

  
“Your guess was right. This wine is lovely with the bread.” Aziraphale said between mouthfuls.

  
“Cheese?”

“You have ch – oh, my favorite!” exclaimed Aziraphale as he sliced a healthy portion.

He paused as he glanced at the plate.

“If I didn’t know better, I might’ve said you expected me.” He noted. “Expected I’d change my mind.”

  
Crowley’s fist rested against his lips. He stared the way he always did when Aziraphale ate.

  
“Did you?”

  
He shrugged.

“Own side has only two members. Could get lonely after a while.”

  
“Thought our side was us and humanity.”

  
“Have you been meeting with any humans?”

  
“…well, no.” Aziraphale admitted. “But I thought _you_ might. Demon and all, break social distancing rules. Though you did say you weren’t keen on such mischief.”

  
“I’m not.”

“But you still could’ve gone to one of the re-opened bars.”

  
“Could’ve, but…” Crowley’s voice trailed off as he gargled syllables. “…you know a good wine.”

  
“Ah.” Aziraphale responded with a nod. “Suppose we’d both know best. So much together over the millennia.”

  
“Whole _oceans_ of wine.”

  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Perhaps a small pool.”

  
“At minimum.”

  
“Are you implying we’re drunkards, Crowley?”

  
“ _Sommeliers._ ”

  
“Fancy, but not technically correct.”

  
“Could be ones. Could be _anything_ we want now.” Crowley continued, his voice quieter.

  
Aziraphale stopped, and the air thickened.

It was another impasse, another of those moments, one they’d had countless times over the millennia.

They’d danced around it.

Had to.

_We’re hereditary enemies._

Tip-toed towards it.

_An arrangement; make our lives easier_.

Barreled towards it.

_We’re on our side, Angel._

_  
_Now?

Aziraphale fumbled with the buttons of his coat.

“I don’t suppose…” You hesitated. “…you had some suggestions?”

  
Crowley only gazed back, that snake gaze never blinking, not a stare but something else.

“Might have a few.”

  
Aziraphale swallowed.

Goodness, how did a snowstorm feel so warm?

The tension amped.

  
Then broke as Crowley yawned.

  
Aziraphale blinked.

“Dear…are you tired?”

  
“N-No. No, damn it I _just_ had a two-month nap.”

  
“Then went on a veritable, demonic miracle _marathon_.”

  
“Right, I overdid it. Fine, got it, _I’m fine_.”

Another yawn betrayed him.

“Damnit.”

  
“Come here.” Aziraphale hushed as he crossed around the table and swept the demon into his arms.

  
Crowley might’ve (he’d never admit it) let out a small startle as he was carefully cradled and carried.

No one would blame him for forgetting that Aziraphale, the posh bookseller, was and _still is_ a Principality, a former guardian.

“Bedroom’s around the corner.” He said defeatedly, reading Aziraphale’s thoughts.

Aziraphale nodded and silently miracled the door open, revealing a plush bed fitted with Egyptian cotton sheets.

  
He gently laid Crowley down and tucked him in.

  
“Hate this.” Mumbled Crowley. “First time I see you after two months and I bloody _fall asleep_.”

  
“No one blames you, Crowley, least of all me. I’m just glad we don’t have managers to audit our miracles anymore. They might’ve had a few questions.”

  
Aziraphale started to leave the bedside.

  
“M’not ready for you to go.”

  
Aziraphale stopped.

He glanced over his shoulder at the demon, who gazed sleepily through him.

The smallest smile passed his lips as he scooched a chair by the bedside.

“Who said I’m leaving? People can quarantine together after all, and I’m already here. It’d be irresponsible of me to leave now.”

  
Crowley didn’t respond. He’d already drifted to sleep.

  
Aziraphale snapped a book into his hands and sat at Crowley’s side, hearing pinned to the whistling snowfall and the quiet rhythm of the demon’s breath.

There he kept vigil of sorts, comfortable and relaxed in the company of his oldest friend.

He may or may not, at the sight of the peaceful demon, carded his hand through Crowley’s hair, felt relaxed at the contented sigh he received.

  
May or may not, he wouldn’t admit to which.

  
But Crowley knew all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b2qwVqYUNY
> 
> late 2 the party but here we are hope its good
> 
> these two r a disaster and i love them


End file.
